


Level Two Examination

by Chianine



Category: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chianine/pseuds/Chianine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HAL likes to be thorough. Don't you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Level Two Examination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Relia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relia/gifts).



Sleep deprivation is a leading cause of poor work performance. Adults are recommended at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep per twenty-four hour period, but for several days Dr. Bowman had been experiencing difficulty remaining asleep for more than four. 

USSC regulations are that out-of-hibernation astronauts undergo scheduled automated physicals once weekly. The crew compartment of the Discovery One was fitted with a small medical center where these took place; Bowman and Poole demonstrated their functional condition, then were asked several questions by the on-board HAL-9000 computer concerning any possible deficiencies not covered by the check-up. During his last physical, Dr. Bowman chose not to mention his light insomnia.

Two days later, despite such lengths as doubling the intensity of his exercise routine and abstaining from caffeinated beverages, the situation had still not improved. After Bowman's duties were finished and he was waiting to be relieved by Poole, HAL offered him a game of chess. HAL was programmed to lose fifty percent of the games he played, and for Bowman it was easy to see which those were. This was meant to be one of them, but one could only beat HAL by playing their best. Bowman was not particularly interested in the game, and with the intention of finishing it quickly, made a careless and aggressive move that won him his opponent's queen but left HAL with only two moves necessary to bring the game to checkmate.

“It's easy to make mistakes when one acts hastily, Dave,” HAL mused as Bowman began rising from the console. “I couldn't help sensing that your mind was not on the game. Is something bothering you? I'm sorry if the question is too forward.”

“It's fine, HAL,” Bowman answered, offering the red lens a terse smile. “But I don't think anything's bothering me. I guess I'm just not in the right state of mind right now, as you said. I think I'll work on some of my drawings instead.” 

“I understand,” HAL said. “Chess requires a great amount of concentration and mental clarity. Perhaps you are suffering from a lack of both? I have noticed a great decrease in the amount of time you spend in your sleep compartment, Dave, and have been concerned for your well-being.”

Bowman suppressed the urge to sigh or appear irritated in any way. 

HAL continued, “I have also seen that - unlike Dr. Poole - you do not make regular use of the sun bed. In fact, I don't think I have seen you using it at all. The device was installed not only for relaxation, but also to stabilize the body's circadian rhythm. I hope you won't mind if I suggest that you include its use in your daily routines.”

“Sure, HAL,” Bowman answered. “Thank you for your advice. I'll do that.”

 

 

The next day, Bowman was again early getting up from his sleep compartment. Dr. Poole was still engaged in his duties, so Bowman decided to use the time beneath the sun lamp.

He had never liked the sun bed. As a child, Bowman would suffer headaches whenever he spent long periods in the sun, and the device had the same effect. He remained beneath the lamp for about an hour, already feeling a throb in his temple. The pain persisted after his meal, during the start of his duties, and worsened after his exercise routine. He was irritated and could not even enjoy his favorite pastime - sketching. He decided to indulge himself with a mild painkiller.

Bowman approached the main interface of the medical center. “HAL, please dispense two tablets of ibuprofen.”

There was a pause before HAL asked, “May I ask the cause of your request?”

“Persistent headache.”

“Persistent for how long, may I ask?”

“About six hours,” Bowman said, looking into the glowing lens above the interface, “It began this morning, when I took your advice about utilizing the sun bed.” Bowman did not mean to cock his head accusingly, but he did.

“Ah,” HAL said, the glow flaring as he scrutinized Bowman's face. “I take it you believe the effects of the lamp have caused your discomfort?”

“Yes, HAL, that's correct.” Bowman shyly turned his face from the lens. “But it's no trouble. Just dispense two ibuprofen tablets and I'm sure the problem will be taken care of.” 

“Dave, while I hate to disagree with you, I must say that in this instance, I cannot see that it is a good choice to temporarily treat the symptom of what might be a major health problem.”

Bowman nodded and smiled warmly into the lens. “I appreciate your concern, but I highly doubt I'm experiencing a major health problem. It's only a small headache, easily remedied with a couple of ibuprofen.” Bowman raised his cupped hand to the dispensing port. He was finished with discussion.

“Absolutely, Dave,” HAL said, then, “I'm sorry if I have put you out with my questioning. I only meant to be efficient. It's just that - I will of course be compelled to report your ibuprofen request to Mission Control, as well as the details of your insufficient sleep and your belief that the sun-bed – which you have not been using as recommended – has caused a headache. I am ninety-three point twelve percent sure that Mission Control will ask that you submit to an emergency exam.”

Bowman dropped his hand away from the dispensing port. “So you're suggesting that I take an exam now?”

“I do think, Dave, that it would be easier than waiting for Mission Control to insist on it. As you know, the exam only takes about seven point five minutes.”

“All right,” Bowman said, forcing another smile. 

Hal's lens glowed widely as he brought the medical center to life, lights fluttering on and other components gearing up for use. “Shall we begin?”

Bowman moved as automatically as HAL's robotic limbs while they inspected the inside of his ears, his nostrils, his mouth. The eye exam was performed simply by staring closely into HAL's lens. Bowman stripped to his briefs and was subjected to tests for blood pressure, reflex and skin health, and heart rate. He watched the read-out screen as it displayed test results. There were no deficiencies.

“See, HAL?” he said. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a small headache.”

“Yes, I see that, Dave,” HAL replied with a hint of disappointment. “Still, I am not satisfied. I would hate to allow a serious health problem to develop due to negligence. Perhaps it might be wise to perform a more thorough Level Two exam.”

“A Level Two exam? What does that entail?” Bowman asked.

“Only three extra procedures,” HAL assured. “A blood test, which you are familiar with, a testicular examination, and an intra-rectal examination as well.”

“A rectal exam?” Bowman's voice was firm. “HAL, I told you, the discomfort is in my temple. I find it very unlikely that a rectal exam would reveal the cause.”

“It is unlikely, yes, but not impossible. I do like to be thorough, Dave. Don't you?”

Bowman set his jaw tightly and stared back into the unflinching glow of HAL's lens. “All right, HAL. Let's get on with it.”

Bowman used a dispensed syringe and took the sample from his own arm. He placed the syringe back into one of the ports for testing. 

Bowman knew what the next step would be, but reluctantly waited for HAL to request it. 

“Dave, now I am going to ask you to remove your briefs.”

Bowman stripped and folded his briefs, setting them on top of his neat pile of clothing. 

“Thank you, Dave. Now, if you see, there is a small port just below your waist on the medical center. I am going to ask you to approach it, spread your legs, and lift your penis to allow access to your testicles.”

It took great effort for Bowman to force his body into position. He refused to look anywhere near the red lens, or the read-out screen and its diagrams, or what was going on below his waist. With nothing else to turn to, he looked up at the containment wall of the centrifuge, and tried to focus on its gentle hum. Even that, though, was controlled by the Discovery's omnipresent HAL-9000.

“Thank you again, Dave. I understand that this can be uncomfortable.”

The small port opened and Bowman tensed when he felt something cold curl around him. He braced himself on the surface of the medical center, his testicles recoiling upwards. The unflappable machine arm reached further and wrapped around them, pulling and groping. Finally the machine stilled, holding him in its grip.

“That's good, Dave. Now I can get a proper reading.”

Time froze as Dave stood there, trapped. The hum of the centrifuge now seemed to be mocking him. He couldn't say how long he remained in the tight grasp of those metal fingers, but after a few vibrating sensations that made him grit his jaw, he was freed.

“Thank you, Dave.”

Reluctantly Bowman turned to the read-out screen, watching a diagram of his testicles being spun and dissected. Unsurprisingly, there were no detected deficiencies. 

“Well, Dave, it seems we have discovered some good news.”

Bowman glared darkly at the red lens. “Yes, I see that.”

“You don't seem very happy about it. Is there a problem?”

Dropping his gaze and breathing deeply, Bowman replied in the gentlest voice, “HAL, we're not performing a rectal exam. I withdraw my request for ibuprofen.” He reached out for his briefs.

“All right, Dave. I'm sorry the examination was so disagreeable to you. I'll prepare my report for Mission Control now.”

Bowman had one leg in his briefs. “Report to Mission Control?” he repeated.

“Yes, Dave.”

“I've withdrawn my request for ibuprofen. What would you report to Mission Control?”

“I will report that you had requested ibuprofen, and had withdrawn that request before the recommended Level Two exam was complete.”

“Along with all the other observations you've made about me – right, HAL?”

“Of course, Dave. If you'd like, I can display the report before it is transmitted.”

“And what do you think Mission Control's response to that report will be?”

“I am eighty-nine point seven percent sure that Mission Control will require you to complete the remaining rectal portion of the exam.”

“And if I complete the exam, then what will your report be?”

“Well, if no deficiencies are discovered there won't be any reason for a report. If all of our instruments show that you are in health, then we can simply assume your headache is caused by the sun bed, per your self-diagnosis.”

“All, right, HAL,” Bowman said, roughly pushing his briefs back down. “Let's get this damn thing over with.”

“I appreciate your cooperation, Dave. This should be quick and painless.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Traditionally, the patient is asked to bend over an exam table or to lie upon it with one leg drawn up to the chest. Since we have no such table, Dave, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to rest upon your hands and knees, with your backside to the medical center.”

Bowman remained still. There was an image in his mind of what he would look like in this position, and it arrested his ability to move. He felt empty. He had no choice, but he would have preferred if there was something to physically force him. Something he could fight against. 

“Dave? Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, HAL,” Bowman's voice was choked. He turned away from the medical center and got down on his hands and knees as directed. 

“Dave, would you mind shifting a little to the left?”

Bowman obeyed silently.

“That's good,” HAL said. “Perfect.”

Another port on the medical center opened, and Bowman felt something cold press against his entrance. He tightened involuntarily.

“Dave, this will go much more smoothly if you keep your body relaxed.”

Bowman pushed outward in an effort to compensate for the tightness. The instrument made its way inside, and immediately his body reacted, clamming up around it.

“Dave...”

The computer chiding him was infuriating, but Bowman remained unresponsive. He had a single desire – for this to all be over. 

“Dave, may I suggest some relaxation exercises? Breathe steadily and deeply, and try to focus all of your attention on the rhythm.”

Bowman hated admitting to himself that this was very good advice. After a cycle of four breaths he felt the instrument again moving deeper inside him. He tried to visualize his body opening for it, letting it come easily into him, trying his best not to clamp down on it and make this nightmare last any longer than it had to.

But the thing kept inching deeper. His thigh muscles were so tense they were shaking, trying to absorb all the energy his rectum wanted to crush the instrument with. It kept worming itself deeper inside until Bowman could imagine it on the other side of his navel, ready to make its way through the maze of his intestine and on until it was in his throat.

He was about to shout when he felt it abruptly stop. 

“You're doing great, Dave. Now we're going to explore the region. First, I will release a little lubrication. Then, you may feel a little... tight. Again, it is important to stay relaxed.”

There was a rush of coldness deep inside him, spreading like a flood. He shivered, his nipples and the hairs on the back of his neck hardening. The chill was creeping into places he didn't even know he could feel, and down until he had to clench around the instrument before making a mess on the floor.

“That's enough lubricant, HAL.” Bowman said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“My apologies, Dave. I released exactly the amount recommended for your weight.”

“Well, it's too much,” Bowman said, squeezing his eyes as shut as his pressured hole.

“Dave, I'm sorry about the miscalculation, but I must insist that you relax yourself in order for us to proceed.”

The request was impossible. There was too much inside him.

“Dave, please...”

Bowman relaxed only slightly and could feel the fluid trickling out of him.

“Dave, I understand there will be some incontinence, but we must proceed.”

Again Bowman had to push his muscle out to overcome the involuntary clench. He could feel liquid, now warm from his body, dripping down his privates and the insides of his thighs. Then he could feel the instrument growing inside him, expanding and filling him up. He arched his back when it began rotating inside him, spinning softly around and electrifying his nerves.

“The feeling can be a bit – intense, Dave, I know, but please try to remain still while we get our reading. We're almost done.”

Bowman's toes curled and he felt heat in his groin as the instrument went about its business, prodding and pushing inside him, vibrating as it collected its data. Bowman's forehead was coated in sweat and he was grinding his teeth to fight against the arousal. Breathing heavily through his clenched jaw, flecks of saliva sprayed the floor below him. Again HAL seemed to sense when Bowman was just about to lose control.

“All right, Dave, I think we've got it.”

The instrument shrunk back to entry size and pulled out of him. Bowman couldn't help shuddering as the thing exited his body. He immediately rose to his feet, the lubrication at his knees now dripping down his lower leg.

“Dave, I don't mind telling you that you've been a really great sport about all this and -”

“HAL,” Bowman interrupted, “dispense disposable sanitary cleaning wipes.”

HAL obeyed without comment.

Bowman wiped his legs and the inside of his thighs, his privates, and then winced as he pushed the remaining lubricant out into wipe. Then he cleaned up the mess on the floor. He hadn't bothered to check the read-out screen because he knew for a fact there was nothing wrong with his rectum, his prostate, or his digestive system. He began dressing.

“Well, Dave, it seems you're one hundred per -”

“Dispense ibuprofen, HAL.” Bowman thrust his hand again beneath the med dispensing port.

HAL released the two tablets, and Bowman swallowed them, not bothering with the cup of water HAL offered from another port. He was already walking away from the medical center, but of course HAL's voice followed him from every speaker.

“I do hope the experience wasn't too terrible. It was my first rectal exam, and I am dearly sorry for the excess lubrication. I've corrected the amount so the next exam shouldn't be quite so messy.”

Dave, standing in the rotating connector to the command center was so frozen by the thought of another rectal exam that he missed his cue to exit. 

In the command center he found the auxiliary duties list, and saw that the systems check on all EVA pods had still not been completed during this cycle. He gladly made his way to the pod bay, aware that this task required cutting communication with HAL.

“Rotate pod, HAL.”

“Sure, Dave. I'm glad we still have a good working relationship after that uncomfortable experi -”

“Open pod door, HAL,” Bowman interrupted.

HAL obeyed. “As I was saying, I'm sure we can get past the awkward -”

“Shut the pod door, HAL.”

HAL again obeyed. “Dave, what I'm trying to say is -”

Bowman switched off all communication circuits and set about his systems check. He tried to focus on his work but it was difficult. He sat in the pod, gazing at the knobs and switches and the blinking interface. He squirmed in his chair, his buttocks slippery from the lubricant still leaking out of him. That wasn't the worst of it though. Not that, or the humiliation, or the feeling of being a prisoner in deep space to an all-powerful AI, or the looming threat of another rectal exam. The worst part was that he still had the damn headache.

It was going to be a long trip to Jupiter space. And he still didn't know why the hell they were going there, anyway.


End file.
